


Of Blessure Of Pain

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ironically, Anakin has thought about more things in this split second being pinned down into the muddy soil than years at school and under Obi-Wan’s teachings. Use your head, think, his Witch always says, before you do. Therefore he follows even if head's aching, ears ringing loud under the crushing force of those clawed hands that intend to torment.It's madness.His brother alive. Obi-wan taken. Their home now ruins. The garden he just watered this morning now a disaster. Obi-Wan will be so very grumpy for the perishing plants. They were considering moving after Boba's back. Hunters attack. The contract, more of a treaty, on the exchange of protection and powers. The failure that's had the gall naming themselves State Council.Everything's madness
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous





	Of Blessure Of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Morality might not be a thing here. Also vivid depictions of violent reality and fantasies.

This is not how he imagined things would turn out to be. 

No. Not ever.

Not when just a moment ago, he was the one in control, the absolute vindicator devouring the sweet moment of a soon-to-be victory, after such a long wait. After so much patience spent.

Crawling in the foulest corners like some wrenched lowlife, lurking in the agonizing shame of defeat, with the only faith supporting being his hatred. That he would find him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

A name he had been holding back at the very end of his tongue, with the intoxicating eager to spit it out, like in the simulations replayed countless times in mind. How he would bathe in the ghastly and bewitching scene made of the said one's death—a tragedy of flesh and bones, must all from his doings.

And it was so close. Oh, oh he should've known.

Their hunt seeped through the city too smoothly. His opponent, then his captive, conceded too easily. As if the other side of this war had foreseen what's coming after them through dead shadows of night.

"Do what you must." Kenobi had both hand raised with the same distasteful grace as their first encounter years ago, and somehow he flinched in front of the face that had been haunting him forever, that mirrored every cursed feature he had been longing for since that day.

Such deceptive innocence.

That day when Maul was cut in half and forgotten, still very much alive. And Kenobi, his little personal murderer, hadn't even pitied him a second look.

"Someone asked me to spare your life," he snarled, raw like an starved animal, leaving all his hardly acquired dignity behind while chains materialized from the few bodies scattered about his feet and thorns dashed ahead to strangle the Witch, "and I will. You deserve much worse." 

He wanted to see how much longer the other could latch on to the feigned ease—a constant reminder of his humiliation as long as the Witch lived—before they’d falter. 

Until the deafening sounds of engines shattered his new found pieces of ecstasy.

So close. So close! In the darkness, in the horror of failing himself once again, he wails and wails; a madman drowning in the Styx.

Kenobi.

People tease that he either has the perfect sense of timing, or say, the damned worst. Well, Boba Fett certainly prefers the former. At least he made it to come rescue, after a hell of a ride almost flashing along the streets and crushing through walls on his beloved Phoebus.

And that motorcycle, you know, is a family heirloom.

Obi-Wan will pay for the repairs. He decides as he grips the handle even tighter and speeds up, slamming the red-faced freakman—must be another fucking Hunter—into what resembles a tumbledown chapel. Not that he has paid less in peaceful times.

The wonderful blast could only smoothen his temper for so long before he scrambles out of the particles of sand and dust flying wild, to his really looking miserable guardian.

Within his seventeen years living as the responsibility of the only "Witch" known in this city, Boba could barely recall the last time he was this, concerned, given how collected the elder always appears to be.

But clearly isn't right now.

"Are you..." Hell. Boba trails off in the surging flames of rage, almost itching to lynch that hunterfreak who's probably deadly dead on his newly replaced headlight already. How could Obi-Wan be well like this. How could anyone be well like this.

With a low, almost unnoticeable inhale, the gutter spikes that had him speared to the ground are extruded from the trembling wrists. The hard silvers restraining his body rattle then rupture themselves all at once; strong is the impact that some iron fillings stained in crimson splatter across the lower half of Boba's face.

For a long moment have those lowered lashes fluttered to reveal the greens under, unfocused still.

The brown teen suddenly feels Adrastia too vast and too quiet even for an industrial district built and abandoned on the very periphery of the Capital. For that he could hear the dripping flow of his guardian's blood, more piercing than the police sirens screaming from afar.

Where Anakin must have remained.

Fuck. He knew that they should have at least barred the doors.

One could not say that wasn't a scene stingingly domestic to witness, even with his eyes half-shut.

The main room of the house, a washitsu, had been fully open to the backyard-so he read it as an invitation. On its [wooden veranda](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/1a/48/561a4816df9157af7ed765d7297a9748.jpg), an abnormally large feline had its head resting on the Witch's lap, thick fur readied for the coming winter being gently combed by the ginger's hands. Weakest chest bared unknowingly, heaving along with the rhythm of its owner's humming. There, there. Sweet and silky.

So comfortable that his shame of a brother didn't even notice the arrival of their unwanted guests.

He could smell the reeking reliance and affection, overwhelmingly so. Things that had been familiar during their shared past straying about, here and there, in the fear of dying tomorrow. Ah, and there's desire too, desperately sealed under the skins. The man beside Vader almost sneered at that. The pair really should thank him for having the courtesy of waiting, rather than letting the fool in red bring them an easy end.

Those caressing hands stopped under his gaze.

The Witch knew, of course he did. He had _expected_ all. Otherwise they never could have torn down the wards guarding this side of the city as a whole with so little effort.

Still, it really mattered not whether this was a trap or some cheap show-off.

Greens stared back, serene and distant. And he found himself drinking in the face he had seen thousands of times in the visions rewarded by the master Hunter. The prototype of those lives he had hooked up with and slaughtered thereafter. 

Mythical thing, wasn't he. Time's favorite.

And a murderer.

Had had enough of the display that stirred his emotions, Vader was no longer in the mood for playing gentle, and the result came in instantly. The wagging tail froze dead upon the blatant presence of malice, slit pupils blown wide. In the undeniable concordance, both monsters bared canines in a menacing growl. One exactly as the other.

Even the long separation could not breach the ties of blood.

He came to claim what he had been owed, and he would.

Twice had Obi-Wan visited the hall of Moirai, and each time he went with the same plea.

Plea for an exception. A chance of life.

The oldest sister sighed at the his persistence, hands still held tight to the threads she was about to cut through.

"No one interferes with the wheeling fate. The weaker of the two is doomed."

His body shook, eyes widened at her words.

"What you said... two?""

"Twins." All three ladies paused their handiwork, turning to study his at loss. A measuring rod stuck out to lift his chin. "You did not know."

It wasn't a question, yet the pale silence served more than an answer.

"Then we shall correct your mistake."

But Anakin had just turned thirteen. 

No! Startled, panicked at the image of losing him, his little lion, Obi-Wan jolted up in loud denial.

"Return of one life consumes the other. Just take the other!" 

When the sisters fell into a cautious silence, he pushed on, desperate, manners all gone; even his delicate features became unbearable to look at.

"The boy, the man I am raising is my Knight. Mind, body, and soul, his all belongs to me, and I'm not giving in, even if they were brethren. You _will_ take the other." 

"Consequences that come after might be something even you can't control."

In their muffled gasps, he slashed his forearm with the spindle, let the thick, nectareous fluid drift in air.

By ichor he swore. They needed nothing else to affirm the choice he had made.

Selfish is man, yet gods worse.

Maul wakes up in a cold shudder, mind dizzy. Wherever they're, the little episode before must have cut off electricity for blocks around. He attempts hard to sit straight despite how much the broken ribs hurt by crushing against his insides. No wonder he sees solely into those eerie orbs of his archenemy. 

–through a very much hollowed wrist.

Showing off severed veins and broken tissues. Throbbing with each pulse. And that nearly alabaster shade gleams behind the mess is but a well of stagnant water, not awaiting him, or anything at all.

Clearly he shouldn't the one who finds this disturbing.

There's a series of clicks and clacks ringing in the silence. He squints a little to find a dark-skinned kid, whom he vaguely recognizes to be a Fett, toying with a lighter, dim flames constantly turned on and off.

The Fetts. They observe, never participate. But here is one, a Judicator standing by a Witch, _the_ Witch.

The Hunter tastes the rusty wound off his lips as the kid, too, notices his regaining consciousness and immediately turns agitated. Which reminds him of his good old days, full of vim and vigor, killing and being killed.

And there's this little tiff he has almost lost track of, overshadowed by what it led to. Somehow he feels the abrupt, maybe also stupid necessity to bring it up before anyone's going to die here tonight, and he does, earning the Witch's attention back from babysitting the boy.

Even dead water can be rippled. No, far beyond–provoked. By what he knows, what he has done. Maul is at least confident in that.

Things are just getting more exciting than he was promised.

Ironically, Anakin has thought about more things in this split second being pinned down into the muddy soil than years at school and under Obi-Wan’s teachings. Use your head, think, his Witch always says, before you do. Therefore he follows even if head's aching, ears ringing loud under the crushing force of those clawed hands that intend to torment.

It's madness.

His brother alive. Obi-wan taken. Their home now ruins. The garden he just watered this morning now a disaster. Obi-Wan will be so very grumpy for the perishing plants. They were considering moving after Boba's back. Hunters attack. The contract, more of a treaty, on the exchange of protection and powers. The failure that's had the gall naming themselves State Council.

Everything's madness.

The weight straddling him pressures further on, and he grimaces in pain for the depriving of air. His heart has been screaming from the first strike that had him by surprise. His body, domesticated by attachment and spoiled with affection, far too weak to sustain a serious fight.

Vader was fierce: he would've gladly freed the younger from his limbs with merely one shot if Obi-Wan didn't counter those branches sharpened like the blade of a guillotine.

And no one dared expect his Witch to repay the intruder a _slap_ right in the face with the same violence, meaning clear.

The moment Vader stilled there, head tilted aside from bearing Obi-Wan's anger, was suffocatingly long. Bruises disappeared as soon as they landed on the tan skin; expressions, if any, blurred under shoulder-length hair. He looked oddly helpless, aggrieved even, like a child who'd been wronged for stealing from a candy shop. 

It's like time slowed itself down. Over this unexpected show of weakness, a shard of reflection that had been missing in the streams of Acheron surfaced.

A boy soaked in cold sweat, trembling on the brink of death. 

This is unfair. Ani.

Another fought against the inescapable, resenting his fate.

Why did you take what was **mine**.

Obi-Wan was nowhere to be found when Anakin snapped out of the vision that stung, together with the Hunter that stank of the deepest hell.

In a blank sense of emptiness, he blinked once, twice, then realized that since when his brother had impaled him through the lower abdomen.

With mere hand.

"What an embarrassment you are, _Ani_." Vader hisses in venom, the predator appreciating his struggling in vain from above. "Do you know how does it feel like, hmm? Being sucked out of life?"

"Oh, yes, you do. You have relished it, don't you. After all **it is you** who snatched everything from me!" In a roar that can no longer be bitten down after all this time, the hand is pulled out from him with barely any mercy. Too quick and too harsh for the younger to even feel anything.

"It all came from a whim of his. The tragedy of us, the hunt, and the fratricide I'm about to commit."

"And you are far from innocent, Anakin, know this."

*Styx: the river of hatred that flows through the Greek underworld.

*Phoebus: epithet for Apollo.

*Adrastia: literally "inescapable"; epithet for Nemesis.

*Moirai: plural for moira, literally "fates".

*Ichor: the "blood" of Greek gods.

*Acheron: the river of woe that flows through the Greek underworld.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by  
> \- AC Odyssey  
> \- ZONE-00


End file.
